Quicksilver hit the bar, glasses and bottles spilling off of it and shattering loudly, but he did not stop there. Instead, he leaned back on his elbows and, pulling something out of a martial arts movie, flipped straight up and over the bar, kicking Emery squarely in the face as he did and landing in a crouch behind it.

Moments later, there was the sound of gunshots, and shattering glass, then the feeling of fluid spilling down onto his jacket. Two thoughts collided in his adrenaline fogged mind. Emery was going to try and burn him alive.

The thoughts were exactly a half a second too late, and he winced at the momentary light as the lit match flew through the air, and landed in the alcohol that had pooled on the ground, igniting both it, and Quicksilver's long jacket.

Emery had made a mistake however. Unbeknownst to most people, alcohol burns at a relatively cold temperature, at least when compared to gasoline, which was why cutting gasoline with alcohol produced a higher octane combination. This same cold burn allowed Quicksilver, gritting his teeth at the pain from the sudden light in proximity with his face, to rip the jacket off and throw it at Emery, then duck back behind protective cover.

As Emery threw himself to the right, the flames reached the ammunition in the guns stashed inside the jacket, causing, as Quicksilver had figured, an explosion, sending both mercury packed bullets and normal armor piercing ammunition in multiple directions, several of which pierced Emery's flesh and exploded there, though none landed a killing hit, however, the explosion was Quicksilver's cue to come up and over the bar again, literally leaping at where he figured Emery would go; had Emery gone backwards, the bullets would probably have taken his head off, so the problem would have solved itself.

As it were, Quicksilver's 230 pound frame slammed into Emery before he could repair the damage from the stray mercurial bullets, and continued with an inhuman strength, plowing him through chair and table alike before slamming him into a wall.

Approximately half a second later, Quicksilver turned to rip a wooden leg off a table, splintering it and snapping it as he did, then turning with the hope to slam it into Emery, but hitting nothing as the vampire threw himself out of the way, then came at him full force, his muscles and sinews repairing themselves as the beast came at him.

"Why won't you fucking die?!?!" Emery growled at him, and it was again Quicksilver's turn to take abuse, and he took one square punch to the face after another, finally putting him to the floor. Emery grinned as Quick started to get up, shaking visibly, then kicked him in the face, sending him flying halfway across the bar in a show of blood enhanced strength.

However, for Emery, the fight may as well have been over. The shaking was not a result of injury, but an unfortunate side effect of his opponent's unique abilities; twenty four hours was almost up, and no medicine had been taken. Adrenaline was surging through human veins, muscles had already begun to further harden and strengthen. It was just that Emery didn't know it. And so, thinking his opponent almost finished, the vampire rushed his opponent in hopes of ending it quickly, before the cops arrived.

The table leg, somehow still in hand, came around and smashed Emery in the face with enough force to further splinter the weapon. Quicksilver however, didn't move beyond forcing Emery back, shaking his head and struggling for control, trying to suppress the murderous rage that he knew was about to overcome him.

And then, before his vampire opponent's very eyes, the red gleams that were Quicksilver's eyes suddenly got brighter and larger, the human who could not be human coming towards him. He threw a punch, but found it caught in an empty hand, his arm twisted as Quick moved around him and forced him down, then snapped backwards, the joint dislocating with a sickening pop.

While this might not have bothered him on its own, the remains of the wooden stake slamming repeatedly into the side of his face most certainly added to the pain and discomfort of the situation, then, the sound of the wood clattering to the floor, and a blade clearing sheathe preceded a knife at his throat. At the same time Quick released his arm, then immediately used his now free hand to grab hold of Emery's face, jerk his head sharply to the side and used the knife to violently saw through the vampire's throat.

Moments later, Emery's body crumbled into ash as his head came free of his body and the human dropped him, before running out into the back alley where they had parked his car, his vision slowly returning and a measure of control returning. It had been fortunate that everyone had cleared out once the fight started, and Bobbi was waiting in the driver's seat as Quick leapt into the passenger seat, fumbling for his medication in the glove box.

"Drive," he growled as he shoved the needle into his vein.

As Bobbi drove, he convulsed, gripping the door so hard his fingers dug into the metal paneling as his head smacked into the cushion and he banged his knee on the metal dash.

Bobbi looked over at him nervously; his face was a rapidly swelling mass of bruises, there were minor burns on his neck and on one of his hands, and some of his hair had been burned off, while blood had soaked the glove on his other hand, and now, he was convulsing, as if in the grip of a violent seizure.

There were just too many things she didn't know about him. Things like why he had just shot a needleful of god knows what into his own veins, it was odd, he had never struck her as a drug addict.

"What the hell is that shit you're shooting up, Ashe?" she whispered venomously once he looked like he was in a state to offer answers again. It took him a moment to answer, but as he began to pop the bullets out of his body armor, he spoke in a hoarse voice. "Depressants, to keep my adrenal and hormone levels low, keeps me from being a psychopathic killing machine, and a mix of phosphorescent poisons, to keep my immune system from adapting to the stuff," he said in an increasingly matter of fact tone of voice, "Its expensive, and its painful, but its the only thing that has been keeping my psychotic episodes in check for a while now."

They finally stopped at a motel, it would be easier to hide his injuries in a hotel where they only saw her and not him, and was less likely to get her present residence found by anyone that might take an interest in the night's proceedings. She ran in, then came back and helped him and a small number of his things into the room. He leaned against the wall for a moment, then headed over to the mirror with a small, almost scalpel like knife in his hands.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bobbi asked when she saw the blade, worried that he was going to try something stupid, like shaving while his eyes were swelling shut. "I can't afford to be down and out while I recover," he said softly, then, very delicately applied the blade to the rapidly swelling flesh just below his eyes, making a small incision. The blood that had been rushing to the bruised flesh to repair the damage started to spill in a small trickle. "I don't know if I'm a special case, but it seems like a little bloodletting stops, or, at least slows swelling in my wounds usually," he said, wincing as he made the other incision. "If my eyes swell shut," he said, "Then I'm blind, and out of action. I can't afford that right now."

He winced a bit as she turned on the light in the kitchenette, then sighed gratefully when she came back with an icepack, before placing it on his face, glad that not only she helped him, but that she was biting back what was no doubt sarcasm about things not going quite according to plan. After a minute or two with the icepack on his face, he applied an antiseptic and bandages to his face.

The sun came up, and Bobbi went to sleep. The sun did not find Quicksilver in the rooms apartment though, but instead sleeping on the bathroom floor, back to the wall and the door locked. In spite of all that Bobbi had done for him that night, Ashe Black, the man known as Quicksilver, could not bring himself to trust anyone, not even his closest friends.

Afterall, he might kill a friend for the right price. And if he could bring himself to do that, so could his friends.

Tyler's pallid lips parted slightly, momentarily releasing a puff of blue smoke before inhaling sharply, sending the entire flavored breath to the bottom of his dead lungs. Exhaling leisurely, he turned from the barman and faced center stage in the darkened room.

The house lights, indigo flourescent tubing that ran shoulder length throughout the room, had been dimmed to a hum and only the smokey cyclinder of spotlight in which Namaria's seamless figure stood provided enough illumination to light up the entranced faces of the patrons.

[i:74f8eb0c82]In the wee, small hours of the morning,
While the whole wide world is fast asleep.
You lay awake and think about the girl,
And never, ever think of counting sheep...[/i:74f8eb0c82]

Namaria was truly a master of her craft, Tyler had to give her that. Each note had a subtlety and undertone of rich emotion. Each transition was flawless and organic, and like a siren of old the melodic spell she had cast over the pale, illuminated faces showed clearly in each dazzled set of eyes. Tyler, as the proprietor, even felt a slight stir within his chest and turned his back to the shimmering songstress.

[i:74f8eb0c82]"She's got a fantastic voice Tyler."[/i:74f8eb0c82] the barman whispered, absent-mindedly wiping down an already spotless shot glass. The young, yet seasoned Ventrue was already beginning to regret the first name policy he had implemented among his staff upon acquiring ownership of the popular Cascadian Nightspot, [i:74f8eb0c82]The Blue Iguana[/i:74f8eb0c82]. As Namaria's spectacular figure sang on in the wall length mirror that sat behind the bar, obscurred only by Pete the barman's bulky figure and the seemingly endless selection of upper shelf liquour, Tyler wondered if that streak of poor decision making had continued.

[i:74f8eb0c82]"That dress looks terrible."[/i:74f8eb0c82] Tyler lied, his eyes tracing her figure in the mirror, [i:74f8eb0c82]"And the song's a cliche. Who approved this songlist?"[/i:74f8eb0c82]

There was no doubt that Namaria's vocal abilities and obvious physical attributes had been well worth the high monthly salary and cut of the house, but she had been nothing but an irritant since her arrival. While the clubs popularity and profit had skyrocketed, so had Tyler's proverbial blood pressure.

The woman was impossible! A complete and utter diva! Her wretched whine and unreasonable demands had nearly driven him to madness on many occasions. He wanted her so badly his entire body ached...

[i:74f8eb0c82]"Sorry Tyler, just my opinion is all..[/i:74f8eb0c82]" Pete replied, returning his attention to the clean glasses.

[i:74f8eb0c82]"Glad to hear you think your opinion matters."[/i:74f8eb0c82] Tyler grumbled.

[i:74f8eb0c82]"Shhh!"[/i:74f8eb0c82] came the hiss from one of the patrons who had the bad luck to be sitting too near the bar, close enough for Tyler's complaints to have interupted his musical rapture.

The Ventrue leapt from the barstool upon which he had been perched, his eyes flashing with anger.

[i:74f8eb0c82]"Who said that?! Who was it?! Turn up the houselights!"[/i:74f8eb0c82]

As the room flooded with light, the culprit was obvious. Wide eyed and astounded, he stared at Tyler in disbelief. All eyes instantly fell upon the enraged Blue Blood.

[i:74f8eb0c82]"Get this asshole out of my place!"[/i:74f8eb0c82] he had barely spat the last word out before two primates in Brooks Brothers suits had emerged from the main entrance and were leading the unfortunate customer towards the back loading dock and what would undoubtedly be a painful instruction on evening etiquette.

[i:74f8eb0c82]"God DAMMIT Tyler!!"[/i:74f8eb0c82] Namaria shrieked, her voice trembling. She stamped a dainty foot and stormed from the stage, the perplexed piano player adopting a look of terror.

Instantly a roomful of disdain was ciphoned onto the young Ventrue.

[i:74f8eb0c82]"Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for the inconvenience. There will be a short intermission in tonight's performance during which I invite you all to enjoy a drink on the house."[/i:74f8eb0c82] Tyler said gracelessly, before retreating towards the dressing rooms.

As he approached Namaria's door, the one with the bright golden star on it (her request), the abrupt sound of shattering glass filled the tiny hallway.

[i:74f8eb0c82]"Ah shit."[/i:74f8eb0c82]

[i:bc816d3def]"How [b:bc816d3def]DARE[/b:bc816d3def] he do this to me!"[/i:bc816d3def] The shriek of released rage hit a note that mortal (and immortal) ears weren't made for and Tyler could only wince at the viscious stab that pierced the eardrums and bored into his brain. Fortunately, it was short lived. That is, the enraged scream was. Not the smashing of objects that had the bad luck to be where they were.

[i:bc816d3def]"Please, mistress!!"[/i:bc816d3def] David's voice carried desperation in it; namely that of a man who knew he wasn't going to survive if he didn't find a way of diverting the volcano's lava! [i:bc816d3def]"It wasn't Jorge's fault that your act was so violated, it was that Ventrue who's to blame!! He had no right to disrupt your performance like a dog baying at the moon."[/i:bc816d3def] Aria's manager ruthlessly threw the Iguana's owner to the enraged virago without a qualm.

The star performer's door stood open with enough of a crack that Tyler could see the carnage perpetrated on the hapless chamber and it's unsuspecting occupants. Clothing was strewn everywhere, shredded until it was just so much confetti. Bottles, potions and various beauty instruments were either embedded in the walls or imitations of toothpicks strewn atop the material. Glass shards of all types and sizes had become the new carpet and glistened with unnamed and unknown elixirs and pastes.

David, the Swan's right hand ghoul, had imposed himself between his raving goddess and the rest of the cowering herd, standing bodyguard to the wretch (now leaking more fluids into the shag) who'd been the unfortunate brunt of violently discharged temper. Fynn's brother let a tear trickle down his face, his lower lip trembling with realistic terror as he held out blood spattered hands in a plea for her returned benevolence.

A vast silence descended with no warning, lasting several seconds, as Namaria stared with naked fury into the eyes of her foreman. Then she swept up a basket of fruit, sent by an admirer, that had the misfortune to be where it was, and with another screech sent it lobbing into the peeping Tom's door. The panel slammed shut with a reverberation that threatened to bring the entire wall down.

Bits of apple, orange, and wicker exploded colorfully against the door and showered Tyler's suit cuff with debris which he took a moment to flick off with clear disdain. Plucking up his composure, he poked a tentative head into the singer's dressing room which now resembled downtown Baghdad.

[i:fab8dca7f8]"Nam..."[/i:fab8dca7f8] had his Sire been of less potent blood, Tyler would have been clocked squarely by the marble ashtray that wedged itself into the door in the exact spot in which his head had occupied a mere second earlier. As it was, his reflexes spared him the nasty headwound, and he quickly pushed into the room. [i:fab8dca7f8]"Now wait!"[/i:fab8dca7f8]

[i:fab8dca7f8]"Madame does not wish to speak with you sir."[/i:fab8dca7f8] David, Namaria's cretan of a ghoul, spat reproachfully as he stepped between the shuddering songstress and Tyler.

[i:fab8dca7f8]"Namaria,"[/i:fab8dca7f8] Tyler pleaded, pushing past the ghoul. [i:fab8dca7f8]"look...perhaps I was a bit out of line..."[/i:fab8dca7f8]

[i:fab8dca7f8]"OUT OF LINE?!"[/i:fab8dca7f8] Namaria's voice nearly shook Tyler to his core.

[i:fab8dca7f8]"Get out! Leave her alone!"[/i:fab8dca7f8] David's pudgy fingers gripped Tyler's arm and tugged frantically.

[i:fab8dca7f8]"Aria,"[/i:fab8dca7f8] Tyler hissed as he jerked his arm free and sent the ghoul sprawling into the costume rack, sequins and costume jewelry sent flying. [i:fab8dca7f8]"get your lacky away from me before I have him eviscerate himself in your dressing room."[/i:fab8dca7f8]

((looks like I'm gonna have to post aren't I?

((Yep :P

The plane touched down around 2am. Immediately the swarthy heat struck the listless and somewhat beleaguered Brujah in the face as he stepped out of the small jet’s belly. He shouldered a bag, carrying a suitcase in the other hand before trudging his way to the terminal.

In the past three years, since the city’s “troubles”, Cascadia had undergone a rapid transformation from being a tired sister of New Orleans to being a modern, cosmopolitan town. Pace smiled his best smile at the girl behind the counter, giving her a look that threatened to make her panties damp, before he flashed his papers and inquired about car hire. Thanking the girl who flushed crimson at the thoughts he awoke in her, he paid for a car and drove to a hotel.

It was too late in the evening to make his presence felt and so he decided to retire. Finding a hotel was easy. Tourism was still low after the devastation that had struck in recent years. Bedding down he lay in a comfortable bed, listening to the street noises that drifted in the open window and considered his next move.

He waited until the sunset had long since taken residence over the neo-gothic architecture before pulling himself into an expensive dark grey suit. A quick glance in the mirror assured him he could look no better and pocketing a number of notes, bound with a silver clip, he hailed a taxi, requesting the driver take him to the “Blue Iguana?”.

“What kinda fool calls his place that?” He quizzed the driver humourlessly.

“Kinda fool that can afford to I guess. Heard he’s some new stud looking to make himself known, p’ch go figure.” The driver spat the closing words out.

“Hmm. Heard of Swansong?”

“The club’s resident singer ya mean? Sure, who hasn’t. You a fan?”

Pace shook his head. “Not quite.” He fell silent, watching as they rolled from the downtown stretches of street into the upmarket “Bullion” district.

Paying the driver, he buttoned his jacket, straightened his tie and walked past the doormen who greeted him with an officious smile.

Namaria moved so fast that she would have been a blur to human sight and even the Ventrue had difficulty tracking her. She knelt by David's side, one hand wrapped gently around the fragile human flesh of his wrist, as she felt for his pulse. Everyone and everything, Tyler included, went statue still, as if waiting for the nuclear explosion to detonate. Several minutes ticked by with nary a rustle of movement or attempt at speech.

The Daughter turned her head to spear her flame-red eyes into Tyler's own furious ones. [i:334ef6ef28][b:334ef6ef28]"IF_YOU_EVER..."[/b:334ef6ef28][/i:334ef6ef28], the tone was gently spoken into the rippling silence but the menace was all the more emphasized as she stopped mid-sentence and her jaw clenched until her skin all but grayed out. [i:334ef6ef28]"No one, [b:334ef6ef28]NO ONE[/b:334ef6ef28], touches my herd but me! It's my choice to discipline, slay or reward them. They're [b:334ef6ef28]MINE[/b:334ef6ef28]!! And don't your forget it."[/i:334ef6ef28] The last part was delivered on a low growl.

The singer stood up, all temper dropped as if discarding a worn robe, and she faced the uneasy manger full on, her now-emerald eyes flashing with barely leashed ire. [i:334ef6ef28]"Let me warn you, you little piece of shit, that I could kill you here and now for what you just did. The fact that you have the entire Ventrue clan, as well as the Camarilla at your back is the main reason I don't. I've no liking to have them down on my head and I've enough problems of my own that I don't need more complications right now."[/i:334ef6ef28]

She turned on her heel, intending to get her ghouls organized and soothed, then turned back to the non-plussed Iguana manager. [i:334ef6ef28]"Just to give you a piece of advice, Tyler, I, too, have friends in high, [/i:334ef6ef28]and low[i:334ef6ef28], places. Don't make me call in some favors. You wouldn't like me for it."[/i:334ef6ef28] She gave a sniff and whirled away, dismissing him with distain evident in every line of her body as she hefted David's feebly stirring body.

On her way to the exit, she toed the exanguinating Jorge with her high heeled foot and remarked, "The rest of you clean up this mess and see if this one is still alive. If he's not, chuck the body in the hotel's dumpster and let the staff deal with the awkward questions the police will be asking. If he is, then get him patched up. I'm going up to my suite for some much needed peace and quiet." She made a determined beeline for the space where Tyler blocked the way out.

[i:11c9e56da9]"You know Aria, if you weren't all passion and no sense, you wouldn't make a half bad Blue Blood."[/i:11c9e56da9] Tyler laughed, leaning against the threshold of the doorway.

The Swan's gaze darkened and she opened her mouth, undoubtedly to spew forth more hatred and bile.

[i:11c9e56da9]"Just one moment if I may."[/i:11c9e56da9] Tyler hissed, now standing erect, his hands folded tightly into one another behind his back. [i:11c9e56da9]"I don't know who you think you are, or who you think you know, but any fledgling who's cut his teeth knows never to rely on who you know."[/i:11c9e56da9]

[i:11c9e56da9]"So help me Tyler..."[/i:11c9e56da9] the singer growled, her anger seething palpably from her sultry body.

[i:11c9e56da9]"Before you go around spitting out threats and flinging your disciplines about like a neonate remember where you are."[/i:11c9e56da9] the Ventrue jerked forward, his face remaining even and calm despite the venom in his tone, [i:11c9e56da9]"You're precisely right. This is my town. Half the Licks in this city are two steps from Kevin Bacon and one step from a Justicar and most of them owe me a favor or two. This is [b:11c9e56da9]my[/b:11c9e56da9] herd, do you understand? Fuck with me again in [b:11c9e56da9]my[/b:11c9e56da9] town and it won't matter how many bad motherfuckers you know, I'll make sure no one can help you. Don't forget that I owe you one."[/i:11c9e56da9]

[i:11c9e56da9]"Tyler..."[/i:11c9e56da9] Zach's pale face looked even more pallid as he peered into the destroyed dressing room. Tyler's new administrative assistant looked woefully in over his head, [i:11c9e56da9]"T..Tyler, there's an important call for you. Real important. Mr. Nash?"[/i:11c9e56da9]

The club owners hateful gaze held tight on Namaria's as he spoke over his shoulder.

[i:11c9e56da9]"Call me Mr. Moore for Christ's sake. This is business."[/i:11c9e56da9] Tyler growled, finally turning from the singer and pushing past his assistant. [i:11c9e56da9]"Burn the corpse."[/i:11c9e56da9]

As he stalked down the hall, pushing past the anxious employees emploring him to handle the increasingly impatient club several thoughts shot through his mind. What the hell did Nash want? Where was Gabriel when he needed him? What in Caine's name did he just do?!

She exploded from the club in a rage. Sidestepping around a pillar he deftly avoided being seen and stood watching as the club owner matched her threats. He stifled a chuckle as the suit did exactly what he'd recommended 'Aria not to. Running a thoughtful hand over his bald scalp he followed the Ventrue with his eyes before returning his attention to the singer, clenching his fists before he barreled past the crowd of club staff. What could have, with some imagination, been the bar manager turned to face him an attempt at steel in his eyes.

"Watch where you're going you black..." His words went slack as Pace returned the gaze, using his Presence just enough to make the bar manager's bowels loosen. He didn't speak, no need for it. Pace grunted, shoving him into the wall, a little more and he could've gone through it. Then he was gone.

Outside Namaria tried to get her car started. Her retainer's unconscious body slumped over the passenger seat. She hissed and cursed at the car before breaking down in a tempestuous tantrum the likes of which Pace had only seen once.

She sat, hed on the wheel, coughing up a mixture of sobbing and cursing.

"Stupid little bastard. I'll have his balls on a platter! Where's your fucking brother when I want him, eh David? Stupid useless piece of shit! Aarrgghh!"

Pace smiled before stepping from the shadows that criss-crossed the alleyway she'd parked in. Appearing at her window he gve a soft rap on the glass. Jumping she looked up, ready to burn down the intruder with her disciplines. Relaxing as she recognised the smiling, nigh sculpted nubian face that looked in at her.

"Pace?"

"I wish you'd stay still, Nam. Been all over the damn place lookin' for you." He paused looking at the tremblig songstress' hands.


"Put your boy in the back, I'll drive."

((looks at the avatars...it's like a naked man jamboree in here!

((Just the way you like it ;)

((I feel like Tyler and Pace are going to have an "ab-off" at any moment! lol

((My god how gay are you? :P